I Should Have Been There
by Finest Ships in the Harbour
Summary: This is my version of Post-Canon events as they would involve Arya and Gendry. This short takes place after the End of Season 7, so huge *SPOILER* warning if you haven't seen that far.


**AN: This is Post-Canon, begins basically right after the events of Season 7, and has a lot of spoilers, so consider yourselves warned!**

* * *

I should have been there

White Harbour shone, with a bright radiance. When word reached the city that the Targaryen fleet was headed there, the city had cleaned and toiled and prepared for their visitors, to the best of the seaside port's ability.

And when the ships finally arrived, there was indeed a great fanfare to welcome them. The people touted the return of the 'King in the North' and the arrival of the Dragon Queen. They played music and everyone lined the streets to watch as they disembarked the ships and came ashore. For the people had been informed that the Dragon Queen and her army had come in peace, with the King in the North, to help fight the great threat beyond the Wall.

And Gendry, who himself had been transported to White Harbour to recuperate, after his perilous run to Castle Black (to get a raven to Daenerys to come and save the others), had long since recovered and was there to meet the ships himself.

They were all relieved to see him looking well, and he was quite relieved to see them alive, after their venture to King's Landing. He had been very worried when he'd heard they intended on going into Lannister territory. And now, as everyone disembarked the ships and rowed to shore, he was even more surprised to see a Lannister _among them_.

For Jaime had joined their party after the summit and informed them of Cersei's planned treachery. Everyone was shocked to see him at first, and hesitant to believe it was not a trap. But one only had to see the sadness in the Kingslayer's eyes to know that he had gone against Cersei's wishes to come to their aid.

And so, the unlikely band of allies arrived. And the people of White Harbour were comparatively easy to convince that the threat was real. Probably in part because they were Northmen, who had grown up hearing stories of the Others who existed north of the Wall. The dangerous army of dead men and White Walkers, who would destroy everything in their path, _if_ something wasn't done to stop them.

And so, the men of White Harbour, rallied behind their cause, leaving only enough men in the city to defend it. And leaving only enough supplies and food for them and the women and children who remained behind. The rest of the men, and even some of the women who insisted on helping — along with a tremendous amount of food and supplies — all joined in with the armies marching north.

And the army of Unsullied combined with the citizens of White Harbour, arrived on the King's Road, to the sight of the waiting Dothraki. But not _only_ the Dothraki were there to greet them. Because ravens had been dispatched to all the major houses in the seven kingdoms who were not specifically loyal to Cersei, explaining the situation.

So the people knew the army was marching north to face the Night King. And that they should send any men and supplies they could spare, up the King's Road toward Winterfell. And they did. Many of the houses did. Especially the houses of the North, because Jon called the banners and nearly everyone came, out of loyalty to House Stark.

So everyone met on the King's Road and headed together to Winterfell, where they would then begin their campaign against the Night King. Gendry had never seen more people in one place in his entire life. Well, _living people_ that is to say.

Frighteningly, the Night King, likely still had larger numbers than they did. But at least, they had the dragons. Which, Gendry had seen with his own two eyes, and knew they could decimate the Night King's armies. If only they should survive long enough to do so.

Gendry must have been looking overwhelmed, lost in thought about all this as they marched along. Because Jon fell back then, to keep pace with him for a stretch. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Jon asked him.

"It is. Will there be more joining us at Winterfell?" Gendry asked him.

"Yes, there should be. The northernmost houses would have gone straight there to wait for us. So we should be able to swell our numbers at least a little more anyway," Jon replied. "And of course, my sisters are there. And Bran. And Bran's visions may just be the thing that wins this war for us," Jon added, hopefully.

But Gendry did not hear much after the words 'my sisters are there'. He was stuck on that bit. A picture of Arya playing over and over again in his mind. Arya's laugh. Arya's smile. Arya's frown. Even Arya's glare. They were all on a constant loop and when Jon asked him a question, it was clear he hadn't even heard.

"Arya is at Winterfell?" Gendry asked, his voice barely above a whisper. _Thank the gods she's alive!_ Was all he could think.

And Jon watched as Gendry's features changed. And when it dawned on him, he laughed. He patted Gendry on the back and said, "You might have told me you were in love with my sister. I could have given you _that_ bit of news much sooner!"

"Are you mad?" Gendry asked with trepidation.

"No, you're about the best I could ask for, for Arya. Most men wouldn't stand a chance."

"I don't even know if _I_ stand a chance," Gendry worried. "The last time we saw each other, she wasn't exactly happy with me," he winced.

"Oh? What did you _do_?" Jon raised an eyebrow.

"I left. I thought I had some big destiny. I didn't know all they wanted was my blood for a spell. I should have stayed. I should have been there to make sure she was safe. And from what Clegane told me north of the wall...well, I just should have been there, that's all. Now I don't know if she'll even forgive me," Gendry sighed.

"Well, Arya _is_ quite good at holding onto a grudge. But, from what I've heard lately from Winterfell, she and Sansa are getting on rather well now. And they used to hate each other. So if she can forgive Sansa all her slights, she can certainly forgive you of your _one_ mistake.

"Besides, from the letter she wrote to me while we were at White Harbour, it would seem that Arya went through quite a lot of experiences after she last saw you. Adventures that molded and shaped her and made her stronger. If you had been there, perhaps she wouldn't be the Arya she is today. And the Arya she is today, is one whom I look forward to having on our side as we face the Night King. So maybe it was all for the best," Jon justified.

"Maybe. But she won't see it that way. I just know...when we arrive at Winterfell, I'm going to be in trouble," Gendry stated.

And he was right.

* * *

After a long, seemingly endless march, the forces finally arrived at Winterfell. And not a moment too soon. Word had come from the Wall that there _was_ no Wall anymore. A blue eyed dragon, ridden by the Night King, had seen to that. So now the army of the dead, was marching south, ready to destroy everything and everyone in it's wake.

Daenerys had taken the news about Viserion, very badly. To think that it could end up being one of her own dragons….her own _children,_ that would destroy the realms of men forever? It was a thought too cruel for her to bear. And Jon had been by her side ever since, trying to be everything that she needed.

And thus, Gendry hadn't been seeing much of Jon and didn't have Jon around as a buffer for when he first saw Arya again. He hadn't even known it was coming.

She had not been with the welcoming party to greet the troops when they first marched through the gates, because she had been training with Brienne of Tarth. It was all she ever did anymore. Eating just enough to survive, sleeping just enough to survive. Training, training, training, night and day and _hoping_ it _would_ _be_ enough to survive.

So as you can imagine, it was quite by coincidence when Gendry first saw her. He was training by himself in the courtyard. Jon wanted him to learn how to fight with dragonglass, as they _all_ would need to do. Dragonglass or Valyrian Steel. His hammer would not help him now. But he was able to use the forge at Winterfell to make himself a mace with dragonglass spikes on it.

At least, such a weapon would bear a similar weight and heft as he was used to. That way he'd not be at a total loss without his hammer.

So he was practicing with this new weapon of his, when he saw her, standing across the courtyard, watching him. Silently, with no expression on her face. He couldn't tell what she was thinking as she began to walk toward him. Slowly at first, then more briskly as she neared to where he was standing.

For a moment, he dared to hope, dared to _dream_ that she might run to him. That he could drop his mace and catch her up in his arms as it clanged noisily to the ground. That he might be permitted then to kiss her, even.

Instead, as soon as she was close enough to reach him…

She wound off and punched him squarely in the jaw.

That was followed by a swift kick, placed high enough on his chest that it knocked him to the ground. And before he had a chance to get his bearings, he was lying prostrate, with Arya sitting astraddle of his waist and punching him in the chest.

She was skilled, but he was strong and when he grabbed her hands, to keep them from hitting him, his grip held firm and she couldn't wriggle out of it. He took the moment's reprieve to lick his wounds. Literally, since the side of his mouth was bleeding. And then he stared up at her.

"Hello," he smiled. "Is this any way to greet a long lost love?"

"Any way to greet a _what_?!" she screamed. "You deluded oaf! You think I _love_ you? You were my _friend_ , and you ran away! Like a weasel, to go and cower behind the protection of your father's name! You don't see _me_ cowering beneath a Stark banner, attempting to get by on _my_ father's legacy, do you? No! Because I was out _making my own_!" she yelled and continued her tirade.

"But I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised, given who your father was! Robert Baratheon spent the last years of his life cowering behind Cersei Lannister's skirts while she ruled the realm, pulling his puppet strings! Of course you don't know how to be a friend! Your father claimed to be my father's best friend, and he got them both killed! I should pity you instead of hating you," she said, and he released her hands then, abruptly, as if she had bitten him.

"You... _hate_ me?" he asked, tentatively and with trepidation, not really wanting to know the answer.

There was a great pause. A long pause.

"No, you idiot. Though I did try. I tried very hard to hate you. Even harder than I've tried to hate any of the people I have _successfully_ hated. But I couldn't even manage a strong disliking of you. Believe me, I _wanted_ to hate you. But it seems I just can't. But that doesn't mean I have to stay here and look at you either. This is a big war and you and I could fight in it without ever having to set eyes on each other again," she warned him.

"That isn't really what you want though, is it?" he began. "You want me to tell you that leaving you was the biggest mistake of my entire life. That every moment I spent away from you was pure agony. That it _physically_ hurt, in my heart and stomach and head to be away from you.

"That the only reason I didn't come looking for you was a combination of foolish pride and of fearing the worst. That I couldn't bear the possibility of finding out that something terrible had happened to you in my absence. Or the thought of having to face you and own my mistake, if it hadn't. That seeing you again in this courtyard just now was the best and most terrifying moment of my life. And that it is taking all the willpower I have, right now, not to kiss you," he finished, waiting for her to speak next.

"No, why would I want you to say any of that?" she refused slowly, cautiously. But by the expression on her face he knew. He knew she was lying. He knew that she loved him.

"Because you, Arya Stark of Winterfell, are in love with me, Gendry Baratheon. In spite of whom my father is, _or_ what my own mistakes and shortcomings may be. In spite of yourself, and your desire to make it alone in this world. At the core of your heart, you are just a girl, in love with a boy, and just like me…you are terrified," he confronted.

Gendry expected her to hit him again, or to deny it, or to scream at him. Instead, she smiled. A soft smile he rarely saw on her still young (in spite of everything she had been through) face. But it was a smile that lit all of her features as she said, quietly, and so matter-of-factly that it could have been a statement about lunch…

" _Damn_ you! How did you know?"

He laughed, and flipped them over so that he was the one in control. "Because I know _you_ , Arya. I know your very soul," and he stood and helped her up as well.

She looked disappointed. "After all that, you're not even going to kiss me?"

"I didn't think you would want our first kiss to be lying on the snow-covered ground of the courtyard. But if I am wrong, I can put you back?" he asked, tipping her back and threatening to lay her down in the snow once more. She squealed, and righted herself.

"No. We need a Septon before the next time I let you lay me down anywhere," she said and turned as if to go and look for one.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" he asked, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back into his embrace.

"We march on the Night King tomorrow. If we lose, we all die. If I am going to die, I want to do so as your wife. We marry tonight," she informed him, and rushed away to make arrangements before he even had time to process the news.

 _I, Gendry Baratheon, am getting the woman of my dreams. And I may not even live long enough to enjoy it._

 _Well...at least we have tonight._

The air was bitter cold in the godswood, as they stood under the weirwood tree. They did this to honor the old gods which the Starks still kept. But Gendry being a Baratheon, was of the Faith and kept the Seven. So they had a Septon officiating, as they spoke the vows required of the Faith.

"Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger," They recited in unison. They both smiled as they said Smith, because it was Gendry's occupation, and Arya had smiled when they said Stranger, one of the faces of the many faced god, whom she had served during her time in Braavos. She had yet to tell him about all of that. There would time for playing catch up, if they survived the coming battle.

In the meantime, they were simply happy to be alive and hear themselves pronounced as husband and wife. They had a big meal in celebration, though it could scarcely be called a feast, as the majority of the supplies were being provisioned for the upcoming march and the war ahead.

But that night after the festivities, as the two newlyweds disrobed together in the room that used to be Arya's, nothing mattered. Nothing existed outside of the two of them. They tuned out the sounds of the castle, the baying of the wolves, even the sense of impending doom that pressed down on them. They tuned out everything, paying attention only to one another.

Each other's kisses, each other's caresses, each other's bodies as they came together, man and wife. Those were the things that mattered to them. For who could say how much longer they would have them. And they cried out in pleasure together. Finally united, the way their hearts and souls had wanted to be, had craved to be.

And it was only then, in the afterglow, that Arya realized, she wholeheartedly recognized the baying of one of those wolves to be her own, long lost, Nymeria. Evidently, she too had come back to fight on the side of the living. They would have their reunion in the morning. Though it was a terrifying thing when even the wolves knew that they would need all the help they could get.

Arya would not have been able to sleep that night, if it weren't for Gendry's soft touch and whispered assurances. And as much as she had tried _not_ to need him, not having wanted to depend on any man, it turned out, in fact, that they needed each other. Soon enough, the whole wide world would have need of them. In ways they could not possibly even imagine.

* * *

The march north was extremely quiet. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Either mentally preparing for the battle to end all battles, or reflecting on the lives they had lived thus far. Everyone except Gendry and Arya, who lay huddled together in one of the supply wagons, attempting to carve out some semblance of a honeymoon before the end of the world.

They made themselves oblivious to the goings on outside of their wagon and immersed themselves in one another. This was their paradise, their bliss. For soon, their little wagon-sized world would be a thing of the past, and the future would come roaring up like a dragon to jar them out of their false sense of security.

There was no security in this world anymore. Not really. Not until the Night King and all of his dead army were defeated. Not until they were dust, blowing in the wind...would anyone truly be safe. And every single person heading north, was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure it happened. Even if that meant giving their own lives fighting the enemy.

"What if we die?" Arya asked Gendry, trying to be practical.

"Oh? Did you plan on dying? I wasn't aware," he teased.

"Don't be ignorant. You know the likelihood that one or both of us won't survive this." She frowned.

"Yes, and I also know that talking about it, won't change the outcome. Besides, aren't you the one who always says to tell the Many Faced God 'not today'?" he asked her.

"I do. But there are only so many times you can say that and have it be true," she reasoned.

Gendry sighed, stroking his hands through her hair. "Look, at least if we die, it will be for a noble cause. That's all anyone can ever ask for. Bran says we still have three days until we reach the Night Army. Let's spend every one of them as if it were our last. That way, at least if we do die, we do so knowing that we also truly lived," he insisted.

Arya pondered that for a while. "In that case...I want to ride a dragon."

* * *

The world looked small from Rhaegal's back. As they flew across the countryside. From the north end of the Long Lake where they were camped, all the way west, to Deepwood Motte. Flying above it, they could see Bear Island. Next, they flew east, as far as Karbold. From their they could see the Grey cliffs stretched out before them.

They were careful not to go further north. They could not risk running headlong into Viserion, if the Night King should choose to come south, scouting. Bran could only see the future to the extent which the ink was already dried. Meaning that a last minute decision could change everything.

But it was certainly exhilarating. Daenerys and Jon flew ahead of them, on the back of Drogon, and Arya and Gendry had Rhaegal all to themselves. Everyone had been astounded when the dragon had allowed them to board him. Gendry went first, of course, because he had Targaryen blood three generations back. Whereas Arya had none. Yet Rhaegal allowed her to sit behind Gendry and ride him anyway.

Arya had never felt more alive than she did in those moments. That is...until they saw it, off in the distance. The shadow of Viserion. And before Daenerys could do anything, both Drogon and Rhaegal launched forward and began flying toward him!

Daenerys tried to dissuade her children, but they knew. They somehow knew, that Viserion wasn't their brother anymore. That he had changed and was now a force to be destroyed. And both dragons meant to do just that. Regardless of whom they had on their backs.

They flew side by side towards their target, faster than they had ever flown before. "We need a plan!" Arya yelled.

"When we get close, the dragons are going to try to fight with their fire, but that's not viable! We need to get them to let us steer. If we can get Drogon to fly under Viserion and Rhaegal to fly overtop, Gendry and I can drop down onto Viserion and fight the Night King! It will be two against one and we can end him. You have to let us try. He'll assume Gendry is the bigger threat and while they are fighting, I can finish him, it's the only way!" she quickly yelled.

And when Jon tried to protest, Daenerys silenced him with a look that said, personal feelings aside, this may be our one shot. She nodded at Arya to approve the plan, and kissed Jon, knowing he didn't like this plan, but it was the best they had. And there was no time to come up with another one.

When they got close to Viserion, the Night King opted not to use the blue fire, seeing that he was outnumbered. Instead he attempted to launch a spear at Drogon. But Daenerys anticipated it, and maneuvered out of the way, coming up underneath him, just as planned. Meanwhile, Rhaegal got into position above, while the Night King was focused on Drogon.

Once they were close enough, Gendry and Arya leapt through the air, onto Viserion. And just as expected, the Night King believed Gendry to be the bigger threat. So he drove his staff through him, changing him into one of the dead. Arya watched in horror, as she snuck up behind the Night King and drove a Dragonglass dagger through his heart.

But doing so, while it disintegrated the Night King, it also caused all of his creations to turn to dust. Including Gendry, who disappeared into the wind, before her very eyes. And Viserion, causing her to fall through the air, having no dragon beneath her anymore.

She felt herself freefalling, and expected her body to hit the ground and shatter, the way that her heart just had.

But no, Drogon was beneath her, and she fell, right into the safety of Jon's arms.

She couldn't remember starting to cry. But once she started, she knew she could not stop.

* * *

Three days later, she still hadn't eaten anything. Jon kept trying. They had flown back to Winterfell while the rest of the army headed back via the Kingsroad. Daenerys had gone on to Last Hearth, wanting to see for herself if anyone there had survived the Night King's wrath.

Jon and Sansa had been taking turns caring for Arya. She still burst into crying jags quite frequently. They would bring her food and try to make her eat, but every time she tried, she felt her stomach lurch.

"It's the grief," Sansa would say. "It will pass."

But it did not pass, and they called the Maester, worried it was something worse than grief.

"When was your last menses?" He asked her.

 _What an odd question_. She thought. But try as she might, she could not remember.

And Sansa, having heard this, picked up the soup bowl, and the spoon and moved to the edge of the bed, and sat beside her.

"Arya, you may not feel like you want to live right now. This is survivor's guilt, and you may not even feel you _deserve_ to live with Gendry gone. But Arya...his _child_ , deserves to live. So put the damned soup in your mouth and eat it, because you, are eating for two now."

* * *

Even though it was winter, the sun was shining brightly over the courtyard at Winterfell, as two young boys played with wooden swords. "Robert, Eddard! Time to come inside for lunch!" Their mother called.

"Please don't let Lyanna sit with us, Mother! She keeps trying to kiss us!" the twins grimaced.

Arya laughed. "You can't blame Lyanna for that. She is a Targaryen after all. It's in their nature," She shrugged, taking them to the children's table, and setting them down one on either side of their half sister. "Now, be good little boys, and help dish her soup for her," she insisted.

And then she walked over to her own seat, and sat down with a sigh of exhaustion. "Gendry would be proud," Jon smiled, kissing her forehead softly.

"Of me or the twins?" Arya asked.

"Of all three of you," Jon assured her. "Now, eat your soup, wife," he ordered playfully.

"Your lucky she let you keep your title. Only the King in the North can order me around."

"If only she had let me keep more than that," he sighed.

"Come now, King's Landing needed a decent prince for once," Arya defended.

"More than a father needs his son?" Jon huffed.

"Yes, now eat your soup, husband!" Arya insisted.

"You're lucky you married me. Only the _Queen_ in the North can order _me_ around. Well...and the Queen in the South, but that's another story," he laughed.

"Yes it is. A whole other story indeed," she nodded with a smile. And together, they ate their soup.

* * *

End

* * *

 **Okay, don't kill me! But I would love to hear what you think, so please review and/or PM me, thanks!**

 **Blessings,**

 **-FSitH**


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